


Jemmy's First Chritsmas

by Lenny9987



Series: Lenny's Imagine Claire and Jamie Prompts [51]
Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17089034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenny9987/pseuds/Lenny9987
Summary: Prompt: How about some Jamie/Jem/Bree fluff? Can't wait for their scenes in season 4.*Part of our Christmas Chronicles series for Imagine





	Jemmy's First Chritsmas

“Two years ago, Roger traveled to Boston and we went skating at the Common, decorated a small tree…” Bree mused, mindlessly bouncing Jemmy on her knee to keep him quiet. He had hold of one of the wooden mixing spoons Jamie had whittled for Claire and was using it as a teething toy. “Watched a few of the Christmas specials on TV.” 

Jamie sat across the table, watching his daughter with his grandson. Two years ago, he still thought he’d never meet her, let alone see her wed and bouncing a bairn under his roof. Two years ago, he and Claire had passed a quiet Christmas, barely remarking the day except when they made love that night.

“And last year,” Bree continued in a brighter tone as Jemmy turned to look over his shoulder at her, one fist high up around the handle of the spoon and the bowl of it in his mouth, drool dribbling down his chin. “Let’s not talk about last year,” Brianna cooed. “It doesn’t matter anyway because I got the best gift ever—yes, I did. It was just a few months late for Christmas.”

Jemmy took the spoon out of his mouth and waved it at Brianna excitedly, a high-pitched squeal making both Brianna and Jamie wince. 

Jamie didn’t want to think about how he’d spent the previous Christmas. It was another quiet one but in an entirely different way. Claire had barely been speaking to him while they made preparations to go and fix  _ his _ mistake—a mistake that had nearly cost Brianna and Jemmy a significant portion of their happiness. 

“What was it ye did in yer time for a wean’s first Christmas?” Jamie asked. He reached across the table and caught the spoon before Jemmy could inadvertently make contact with Brianna’s face. Jemmy turned to see why his spoon had stopped moving and began giggling at the sight of his grandfather. 

“Well… I obviously don’t remember mine,” Brianna joked. “I suppose Mama and Daddy established the traditions we had later. Reading a Christmas story, cutting a tree to decorate—Mama did that when we cut our own. I remember her reminding Daddy once that she had more experience with blades than he did which made her the expert. He used a similar argument when I started in the Nativities we had at school and helped me run lines and volunteered for the parent’s organization that sold the tickets for charity.”

“A Nativity?”

“Catholic school,” Brianna reminded him. “We put on a play that recreated the Nativity story and the money we raised went to buying gifts for needy kids and the elderly in our neighborhood.”

“Who were ye? In the Nativity,” Jamie prompted.

Color rose in Brianna’s cheeks but she smiled as she responded, “I was part of the choir of angels. I wanted the halo and wings.”

“Not Mary, then.”

She shook her head, looking down at Jemmy in her lap. 

She might not have played Mary in her Nativity as a child, but she beamed with a pride in her son that must’ve come close to matching the Virgin Mother’s. 

“Is there anything special we can do to mark wee Jemmy’s first Christmas? Something that ye would have done were ye still in yer time,” Jamie urged. It was the first proper Christmas they would have together after the discord of the previous year. 

Brianna smiled at him and reached to put her hand over his. “All of us being here together  _ is _ what makes it special,” she insisted. 

Jamie frowned at her, unsatisfied.

“I don’t want to do what we did before,” Brianna continued, refusing to let him dismiss her sincerity as flattery or humoring him. “I want us to start our own traditions. Not just me and Roger with Jem but the three of us with you and Mama.”

Jamie nodded and settled his remaining hand on top of hers, wedging it between the two of his. 

He’d ask Claire’s advice later.

* * *

Christmas day Jamie pulled out a small parcel wrapped in a carefully-mended handkerchief and tied with a bit of twine. He offered it to Brianna standing with Jemmy balanced on her hip.

“A wee special somethin’ for the lad’s first Christmas,” Jamie told her, reaching to take Jemmy from her while she opened it. 

Brianna’s brow furrowed as she saved the twine and gently removed the object from the folds of the handkerchief. 

“It’s a brooch for when the lad gets his first plaid,” Jamie explained. “It’s the Mackenzie crest. I asked Aunt Jocasta if there was anythin’ among her things belongin’ to the Mackenzies’ she wouldna mind partin’ with. That brooch was one of yer great-grandfather Jacob Mackenzie’s. He had a grander one tha’ passed to Colum and I assume my cousin Hamish has it now, but this was one Jocasta was given when she first wed. No’ as an official wedding gift, mind, but—”

Brianna interrupted him with a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Da. We’ll keep it for Jem when he’s older.”

“Aye,” Jamie said, his face red. “It’s only… Ye’re a Mackenzie in name now ye’re wed but ye were born wi’ Mackenzie blood yerself, no just Fraser and Beauchamp.” 

Brianna smiled, looking over to the table where Claire and Roger were sitting and chatting as they prepared vegetables from the root cellar to add to the stew that would soon be served for dinner. 

“One thing Jemmy will never lack for is knowing the family he comes from,” she remarked. “ _ You’ll _ make sure of that.” She said it in such a way that it sounded like a command, a responsibility bestowed. “So… how about you tell us a family story now.” She slipped the brooch into her pocket and ushered her father and Jemmy over to the chairs by the hearth. “Which family story is your favorite?”

Jamie sat and settled Jemmy on his knee, the lad’s legs dangling on either side until, realizing the freedom, Jemmy began kicking his feet wildly like he was trying to run. 

“Have I told ye the tale of the Gathering where my father met my mother?” he began. 

Jemmy’s feet stopped at the tone of Jamie’s voice and he looked back, listening intently. Jamie shifted the baby’s position and turned the chair more to face Brianna.

Three ruddy heads bent toward one another as the fire burned bright and the warm cabin began to fill with the hearty aroma of supper. 


End file.
